


Contented

by FearNoEvil



Category: Henry IV Part 1 - Shakespeare
Genre: Child Marriage, F/M, Fluff, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Negotiating Marriage, Romance, Teenagers, duels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8193179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FearNoEvil/pseuds/FearNoEvil
Summary: Lady Kate Percy, on the eve of her fifteenth birthday, has been married for over two years, and only wants her husband to see her as a wife instead of a little girl.  Hotspur is a bit distracted defending the family's honor.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheshireArcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireArcher/gifts).



> For my dear friend, who got me to love these two all the more!
> 
> I apologize for any historical errors or anything, or if I did the approximation of stuttering wrong, or if the bizarro pseudo-Shakespearean dialogue is weird. My headcanon that Hotpsur stutters more when he's really upset is kinda built-in to this story. Enjoy!

Kate glowered at her husband over the tip of her goblet, but he paid her no heed: he was too busy viciously grinding his dinner into a slimy brown sludge, and glaring at it like it had personally wronged him.  To complete the circle, she thought fancifully, Harry’s eviscerated victuals would have to direct _their_ ire at her – though she doubted the dinner was the true object of his distemper.

Whatever _was_ , though, she would be sure to discover, and by God, it would answer to Lady Kate Percy for the crime of distracting her Harry from her and her righteous indignation.

Kate’s birthday was on the morrow, and she knew Harry had forgotten.  Already she and her dear lord had been married for two years and more.  On their wedding night, he had been but a youth of fifteen, and she a girl of little more than twelve.  She had been relieved, then, even grateful, that he had viewed his bride still as a little girl – a friend, no doubt, and pretty enough – but undeniably a child.  And as such he barely touched her, certainly not as husbands did their wives, and only ever kissed her on the forehead or the hand – and that not often.

Now, though, she would be turning fifteen – and fifteen was practically a lady!  She was a Lady already, and she thought it was high time her husband saw her and treated her as such – as a woman and as a wife.  More than anything, as an _equal_ , and a partner in his struggle with the world.  And while Harry’s forgetting her birthday, this important coming-of-age and into womanhood that it was to her, was not really unexpected – he didn’t have a head for dates and numbers – it annoyed her to no end.  He would be taught, by God, to honor his wife with the attention and respect her position afforded her!  And the love her heart longed for – that, she would teach him to show.

“Know you, my lord, what tomorrow is?” she asked him pointedly.

“The day I make a craven rogue eat my sword!” he snapped at once.  Having spoken once, he then threw his knife down with a clatter.  “Else I’ll eat his with greater appetite!”  He shook his head violently and abruptly stood.  “Nay, I must be gone, Kate.  I must ready myself for the action of the morrow!”

“But, my lord, you’ve not eaten a morsel –”

“No stomach!” he said savagely.  “Only that _coward’s_ blood will sate me!  By heaven, _he_ shall know who is the coward in our company!”

_Ah_ , she thought, so that was it –someone, some _fool_ , had dared to call him a coward.  It explained a great deal.  She no longer wondered at his grinding his food into paste; she rather wondered that he’d bothered to come home at all, even attempted to sit and dine with his wife.  But she was Lady Kate Percy, and she was not to be satisfied with such a paltry sign of his regard.

“But, my lord, stay awhile,” Kate began, clinging to his arm as he made for the door.

“I cannot delay,” he replied impatiently, wriggling his arm free with ease, but with a maddeningly gentle touch, like she was some glass trinket he was afraid of breaking, “for already your brother awaits my coming, to aid in making me ready.”  His fists clenched again.  “Zounds, but we’ll make that cold-hearted rascal answer for his words!”

She could do no more; away he went.  Kate returned to the table, glared at the desiccated brownish mess on Harry’s plate opposite her, for the second time displacing rage at someone else upon it, and finished her wine.

* * *

In the chill of a Northumberland February night, it was almost unbearable to sleep alone.  Harry’s frequent absences had already acquainted Kate with strange bedfellows, namely Harry’s beloved hunting dogs, who joined her again this night.  Harry’s favorite, a young pup called Lady, lay in her arms with the larger dogs surrounding her protectively, a bracing wall of furry warmth. 

She was at the very edge of consciousness, when suddenly she heard an alert whimper, and the little pup bolted to her feet in Kate’s arms, sniffing the air curiously. Kate let out a weary sound of confusion, but the dog paid not heed.  With a joyful bark, she bounded off the side of the bed and down the stairs.  Kate, after a moment, got up, took her candle, and silently followed her.

As she edged along the hall she saw another light burning, and watched from the doorway as the little pup ran up to her master in the dark, yipping merrily and wagging her tail.  Harry sat panting in his chair beside the table, a large hunk of bread in his hand.  The light flickered from his candle that sat on the table behind him, and next to it lay Kate’s brother, Edmund, fast asleep.

He sat down a moment, ruffling the delighted little dog in his lap, before leaning in to take his first bite of the bread.

“Ah, and is this ‘no stomach’, my lord?”

Harry started violently and nearly dropped the bread.  He caught it before it hit the ground, however, before turning to face her.  “Lord in heaven, Kate!” he exclaimed, now on his feet.  “I might have run you through on instinct!”

Kate only laughed a little.  “What happened to him?” she asked, gesturing to her brother.

Harry looked rather sheepish suddenly.  “We were training,” he said, “and I – I was a bit too rough with him, Kate – knocked him against the wall.  Ah, God curse these hands, they are good for only violence!”  He shook his head as if to rid it of this momentary regret, added, “He’s resting now,” and began to raise his bread to his mouth again.

“But Harry,” Kate pressed teasingly, “you had me believe _only that coward’s blood_ would sate you.”

“Ach, well,” Harry parried, grinning, “coward blood is more of a relish than its own meal.”

Kate gave a soft snort.  “Most convenient you should remember now.”

She had merely intended to make him admit he was just hungry and being stubborn, just to tease him a bit, but suddenly he was glaring and he threw the bread forcefully down on the table.

“I shall not eat, then! I’ll go to fight tomorrow hungry and faint! Will that content you, Kate?”

“My lord, I only –”

“What does it matter!” Harry exclaimed wretchedly, sinking down into his chair again.  “I stand an equal chance in any state!  The wretch is an honorless fool, Kate, but he is strong in arms, and if – if he should b-b-b-best m-m-m-m-”

“And if he should best you?” Kate prompted patiently, moving closer to him, giving him time to gather breath to speak again.

“If he should best me!  To speak plain, Kate – if he should best me, _I_ had best let him finish me, so you can find yourself a better husband!  But he sh-shall _not_ best m-me!  I sh-shall not – I _cannot_ let his words stand!  For of wh-what use is a man who would l-let his w-w-words s-stand?  A man wh-who l-l-l-lets his brother be s-s-slandered?!? The M-mortimers shall s-surely repent ever allying themselves with such a p-p-pack of approved c-c-c-cowards!”

He was taking yet another deep breath to try and plow unsteadily on when it hit Kate.  “It wasn’t _you_ he insulted.”

“Nay, ‘twas your brother, Kate!” Harry agreed fervently, gesturing toward where he lay on the table, where Kate could see him suppressing a smile while feigning still being asleep.  “My brother!  Every man in our company’s brother!  By his dear blood and valor he _earns_ the honor of our brotherhood!  And yet he is called _coward_!  By _God_ , it shall not stand, it shall not!  To wrong your gallant brother’s honor is to cast p-pitch upon the name of P-percy as well as Mortimer!  And if Harry Percy lets the family honor b-b-b-be s-s-s-s-” He couldn’t finish, couldn’t wrap his tongue around it.  He squeezed his eyes shut in agony, before slamming the table with fist. “Damnation!” he exclaimed, and Kate almost smiled.  He could always wrap his tongue around an oath.

“Stained,” she finished.  “You shall not let my brother’s honor be stained.  And so you shall not! For no one fool enough to insult our family has the wit to best my sweet Harry!”

Harry allowed himself a small smile.  He seized hold of Kate’s hand and kissed it desperately.  “God bless my Kate, she is a treasure.”

Kate returned his smile, and went and fetched the discarded bread.  “Eat,” she instructed.  “And build your strength, for tomorrow the coward’s blood shall be a worthy relish!  And when you are satisfied, come to bed, and rest well before you go.”

“Nay, Kate, I cannot,” said Harry, his mouth full of bread. “I must be ready. I cannot let me sword grow slow and idle!”

“But you and my brother have prepared for hours!”

“And there are hours more before I fight!” Harry countered, frowning again.  “I can take no chance that the rogue will best me!”

“ _Harry_ –” Kate began impatiently.

“No, Kate! I must!” Harry insisted.  “You return to bed, my love; Lady shall join you.”  And, suiting actions to words, he pulled her to her feet and pushed her in the direction of the stairs.  “But I cannot rest while our family’s honor hangs in the balance!”

The shove was slightly more forceful than he’d intended, and Kate stumbled on the first step.  Hotspur gazed in horror, made toward her in alarm, and then hesitated. “Forgive me, Kate,” he breathed.  Then, seemingly to himself, he said again, “God curse these hands!” and, backing away from her, he turned to pick up his discarded sword and buckler from their place on the table.  Kate shook her head and turned resignedly away, taking her candle with her.  But something made her stand in her place and listen a moment longer.

“Rest well, cousin, for tomorrow your honor is restored,” Harry was saying softly, and she heard his gloved hand giving her brother’s shoulder a fond pat.  She heard his heavy footsteps again, followed by Lady’s soft ones.  “No, no, Lady, you cannot come with me.  You must stay behind to guard what is precious to me.  Go back to your mistress, now, Lady.  You know how to be gentle with her.”  At long last, and with a plaintive whine, Lady ran back to where Kate was standing, and finally she heard Harry’s sword tip touch the floor.  She peeked one more moment to see him kneeling, his eyes shut tight, his sword out, as if he were swearing by it. “O Esperance,” he said softly, “see this Percy through to victory!”

At last, he was gone.  Mortimer opened his eyes at last.  “Dear cousin Harry,” he said, “I didn’t know he cared.”

“Then, brother,” said Kate, staring after him, “you’re a greater fool than he.”

* * *

Kate was almost resigned now. She was fifteen, she was a Lady, but her husband wouldn’t acknowledge it. It was who he was.  He didn’t want to hurt a poor fragile little girl, so he was afraid to touch her. But he loved the family, and he considered her precious.  Perhaps – perhaps that was enough for her?  Perhaps to be a Lady was to be mature, to be the bigger person, realize who he was and resign herself?

Kate shook her head.  No, it wasn’t.  She was a Lady, by God, and she would not be so easily contented!  Kate spent the morning of her fifteenth birthday playing with the dogs and embroidering quietly.  When, near to sunset, she went out for an evening walk in the brisk Northumberland wind, it was to see her husband and her brother approaching from a distance on horseback.

The horse Harry was riding was a beautiful silky black creature she did not recognize.  When they were about six feet from her, both grinning, Harry dismounted, led the horse the few more feet and placed the lead-rope in her hand.

“F-for me?” Kate wondered.

“For you, my love!” Harry grinned, swooping down to his knees and kissing her hand.  “Happy fifteenth birthday!”

“You remembered!”

“Ah, I didn’t,” Harry admitted, patting the horse’s nose fondly, “Your brother remembered for me.  And more good news!” he suddenly added, pulling his sword out of his sheath.  “Victory was ours!  The rogue has taken back his words, and we are once more sworn brothers!”  Harry was grinning so intensely it looked like it would hurt his mouth.  His face was dusty and a bloody scar adorned one of his cheeks.  He was also, she noticed, slightly favoring his left leg.  “But, Kate,” he said, showing her the bloodstained sword, “I brought back a bit of the coward’s blood to share with you!  It was before he took back his words, so he was still a coward then!  So never say your husband doesn’t share his spoils!”

Kate shook her head and laughed.  “How thoughtful!”

“Do you like it, Kate?” Harry asked her eagerly, slightly desperately.  “The horse?  She shall need a name, and that it up to you! You can ride her even when I am away!  What shall my dear girl want more than to ride free through the fields!”

Kate frowned suddenly, souring at the word ‘girl’ and could not stop herself exclaiming, “ _Much_ , Harry!  She could want _much_ more!”

Harry looked utterly baffled.  “I don’t – I brought her –” he stammered uselessly over to his brother-in-law. “Ach, the devil take the woman!” he finally exclaimed in frustration, “Will she never be contented?”

“Perhaps not _never_ ,” hinted Kate.

“Then, for God’s sakes, tell me, Kate, what you desire!”

“You ask in earnest?” Kate wondered, softening.

“I ask in dreadful earnest!” he shouted desperately, “What do you want of me?”

She took his hand, and placed them around her waist. He was motionless, a puppet in her hands.  She then placed her own hands around his neck, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him.

Mortimer made a spluttering noise, turned tomato-red, wished he were anywhere else in the world, and hid his face behind his horse.  Harry was momentarily stunned, his eyes wide open, before a look of comprehension finally came to him, and he closed his eyes, adjusted his hands into a more natural position around her, and then kissed her back so hard she nearly lost her balance again, but thankfully his hands were there to hold her up.

When they finally broke apart, they were panting a little.  “My love?” Harry asked her softly. “That’s all you desired?  Kate, my sweet Kate, you’ve always had my love!” He scooped her up into his arms, and kissed her again, playfully, and then set her atop her new horse, before joining her there as well. “My Lady,” he said, impressively “I swear by my _honor_ , I love thee _infinitely_!”

Kate was too happy to speak for a moment; she could only giggle like a girl.  “You call me ‘my Lady’,” she said at last.  “And you shall you regard me as such?  As your wife, as your partner in this life – no more as a fragile girl?”

“Whatever pleases my Kate,” Harry grinned.  “Your wish is my command!  I only feared before that I should hurt you or scare you, were I too close.  You feared me more when you were twelve!”

“I am no longer that little girl,” said Kate, “and you may be assured, I fear you no more!”

“Ah,” he added gravely, “but if you are to share in my daily struggle, my love, and I am not to think you fragile, there may be much more to fear!  Are you certain you wish it?”

“I am not afraid,” Kate repeated.  “You may strike fear into every enemy’s heart, my sweet Harry, but nevermore into mine.”

Harry grinned.  He gave the horse a nudge, and it took off, galloping through the fields fields, toward the deepening red of the setting sun. “You are a valiant woman, Lady Percy.”

Kate nestled her head into the crook of his neck and whispered, “And don’t you forget it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha, this is the tenth fic I've published on AO3, and it's the first one where people actually kiss! Man, for a hopeless romantic, I'm really into gen.
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed! :)


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